


I Love You, I'm Sorry

by daisywillliveforever



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 5.12? What 5.12?, Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 08:04:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3721399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisywillliveforever/pseuds/daisywillliveforever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Mickey is so close, so determined, he can’t let this slip away from him. He can’t."<br/>OR...<br/>Mickey and Ian almost break up, but manage to work things out instead</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Love You, I'm Sorry

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little disjointed but honestly I don't even care. (I had this theory that Ian was only being so cold towards Mickey during the breakup scene because he was trying to "let Mickey go" for both of their sakes and the only way to do that was to cut his ties completely. But then Sammi chased Mickey with a gun and Ian didn't seem to care so... this is my way of fixing the finale I guess)  
> Anyway, I just really need a happy ending for these two, ok?

Mickey can barely breathe. His heart is still racing after running as fast as he could to the Gallagher house (or maybe it’s just seeing Ian, his shock of red hair and those fucking green eyes Mickey’d never meant to fall for). He’s struck with the implication that Ian might be, _don’t say it don’t say it,_ breaking up with him. After everything they’ve been through, after Mickey’s declaration of fucking love—

Anger, and terror, each equally sharp, make him bite out, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Ian throws out his arms, declaring, “Too much! Too much is wrong with me. That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

Mickey wants to scream _fuck no, we can fix this_ but he _can’t breathe._

“Too much is wrong with me, and you can’t do anything about that, you can’t change it. You can’t change me because I’m not broken. I don’t need to be fixed, okay? I’m me!”

Mickey takes a step forward, into the yard, his voice barely louder than a whisper, “I know, Ian.”

Ian’s brows furrow, as if that reaction was not what he expected.

“Wh—“

“I fucking get it, alright? Jesus, I know you’re not broken.” Mickey’s desperate, almost grasping at straws, trying to make Ian realize how he feels, “And I’m not trying to change you either.”

Ian runs a frustrated hand through his hair, displacing the strands and making him seem all the more distressed. There’s silence between them for a moment, in which only the faint sound of the El rattling on the tracks nearby can be heard.

“I know.” Ian mutters at last, his eyes downcast, looking almost defeated. Then, so quietly Mickey can barely hear him, “I’m doing this for you.”

Fuck, that hurts. “Why don’t you ask me what I can and can’t handle, asshole? If you thought I wasn’t in this for the long run, I would’ve dumped your ass after you ran off with my kid! You don’t need to set me free, Christ. I’m not trying to change you.” Ian’s breath hitches, and he turns his back to Mickey quickly—suddenly—facing the house. His head droops, his shoulders begin to shake, and with a jolt Mickey realizes that Ian is crying.

“I just want help you.” Mickey’s voice hitches. “Not make you different but… this running away from your problems has got to stop, Ian. You’ve gotta see that, at least.”

“I…” Ian’s words are choked by tears, but he manages to say brokenly, “I’m pretty fucked up, Mick. And I’m trying to…to let you go. Okay?”

“No. Not after all the shit we’ve been through.” Mickey is so close, so determined, he can’t let this slip away from him. _He can’t._

“I just want to be with you, Ian.” Mickey admits, staring at the pavement under his feet, unable to gaze at Ian’s back any longer. Mickey can almost imagine a fifteen year old Ian beaming at him about everything Mickey’s just admitted, and that thought takes the metaphorical knife in his gut and twists painfully until its almost a physical sensation.

He thinks he knows what Ian (the Ian of now, and Mickey suddenly yearns for the days when they were just fucking around in a cooler) will say— _that he’s breaking them up anyway, that there’s no way this thing could work, that it’s a miracle they’ve lasted this long—_ that he’s caught completely off guard by the hug that he’s enveloped into.

Ian’s trembling against him, and when their lips collide he can taste salt on them. It could be from either of them, Mickey doesn’t know or care. He reaches one arm around Ian’s neck, holding onto the short hairs there for dear life. Mickey strokes Ian’s cheek with the other hand, gentle despite the pressing desperation of the kiss.

“Fuck.” Ian whispers into Mickey’s mouth as he pulls back, staring down at Mickey with a myriad of emotions swimming in the depths of his eyes.

_I love you. I’m sorry._

“Yeah, Gallagher, ‘fuck.’”

The use of the old nickname draws a wan smile from Ian, which grows into an almost full-blown grin before he’s laughing breathlessly into Mickey’s hair. And Mickey joins him, because he’s goddamn relieved, until he’s gasping for air. This time, it’s the best kind of breathlessness, a rush of relief and the faint sense that he’s dodged a bullet.

Pressed against Ian’s chest, the smell of sweat and tears and that shitty knockoff fabric softener Fiona uses crowding his senses, Mickey knows that everything will be alright.

 -

(and then Ian apologized aloud and they went to Sizzlers and Sammi never showed her face at the Gallagher house again and Mickey proposed for real and Ian accepted his disorder and Mandy came back and everything was great the end)


End file.
